


something extraordinary

by athena3062



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 06:34:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11076030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athena3062/pseuds/athena3062
Summary: CS AU. Emma never liked romantic comedies, especially the ones where two people inexplicably fall back in touch after years apart. When wine, instagram and her ability to memorize phone numbers collide, her life takes a turn in that direction.





	something extraordinary

**//march**

Emma closed the front door slowly, grateful that Henry was at a sleepover. She'd dragged herself through dinner at Granny's counter, nodding in all the right places and smiling around bites of her cheeseburger, phone warm in her pocket. It was only eight forty-seven, too early to go to bed. She pulled off her boots and headed straight for wine, pouring it into the first glass she lifted from the dish drainer.

Glass balanced carefully in one hand, she crossed the loft and eased onto the sofa. Her free hand flipped on the television, letting the noise invade the too quiet apartment. She settled on a movie she'd seen dozens of times. The explosions and action sequences weren't enough to hold her attention and midway through her second glass, she reached for her phone.

Her fingers hovered over the keypad. Maybe it was the wine, or the time of year, or the empty apartment, but she kept thinking about Killian.

It was all Ruby's fault; even before she moved to Kansas she'd been relentless about social media. Now she was worse than ever, notifications arriving three and four times a day. Instagram was her current favorite and she'd badgered everyone into creating accounts.

Emma had waited the longest to create hers, but after Granny expressed disbelief that Emma still hadn't signed up, she'd relented. Her account was set to private of course, but slowly had started to follow people. It was her only social media account. She didn't have a circle of college friends she wanted to keep track of, nor did she want to stumble across Neal or Tamara (they all tried for friendly but usually landed around awkward). Slowly it felt easier, more natural. She barely posted anything for the first few months, but sunsets over the harbor were too beautiful to keep on her camera roll, so she'd started to add the occasional photo. Nothing too personal, barely enough to justify having the account, but she found herself opening the app more and more.

One afternoon, scrolling through Ruby's pictures, she'd noticed a comment from k_jones. Emma had clicked on his name out of curiosity, wondering if it was really the same person. One glance at his profile photo confirmed her suspicions. She should have closed the app, forgotten she ever saw his name again, but less than a day later, she returned to his profile.

The temptation to see his life through filtered squares was too great. He looked the same: eyes impossible bright and dark hair unruly. Following Killian should have been harder than tapping her finger over a button but it was over with one click. His request to follow her came less than an hour later. She'd ignored the notification for the better part of her afternoon but had clicked accept before starting on dinner. After Henry had gone to bed, Emma had scrolled through his pictures, trying to fill in the last eight years.

The timing had been terrible: she'd only been in town a few months (the breakup with Neal still a dull ache behind her sternum) and his wife gone less than a year. Plus his brother was marrying Emma's boss which made him off-limits as far as Emma was concerned. The library wasn't the most glamorous job in town but the hours were reliable and Belle was understanding about Henry.

But there had been a moment, a stupid moment when her walls had trembled and she'd wondered what it would be like to kiss Killian Jones. It was his last night in town. They'd been sitting on the front steps of the diner, waiting for the last people to leave Belle's birthday party, and he'd leaned closer to let someone down the steps. But when the door closed he hadn't moved back, his hand resting next to Emma's on the cement. She'd brushed her pinky against his knuckles and if her life had been one of those romantic comedies that Ruth loved so much, they might have kissed. She might have fallen into bed with Killian and allowed herself for one night to just be Emma. But the door had opened again, Belle and Ruby tumbling down the steps and she'd stood up before he could say anything.

Emma pressed her head against the back of her sofa cushions. Her hip ached but she didn't move. It was silly to be pining after a man she'd never kissed. She'd changed in the intervening years, moved apartments, gotten a different job, done more than her twenty year-old self could have imagined when she'd arrived in Storybrooke. Surely he'd changed as well.

But it was the picture of the harbor that she couldn't get out of her head, the one he'd posted two weeks before without a caption. To anyone outside of her little town, it was just a picture of clouds and boats, but she knew the familiar lines. Emma had pressed like but she couldn't bring herself to ask whether it was old or new.

They'd gone back and forth, liking each other's photos until she shared a picture of Ruth's dogs in the yard, sunlight making their fur glow, posted before she changed her mind. He'd left a comment and she'd replied almost immediately. Two more comments and then silence. Neither had posted and Emma made up her mind that it was time to break the stalemate.

The phone was heavy in her hand, but her fingers remembered the familiar digits. He'd given Emma his number years ago and she'd always been good at memorization.

She'd had too much to drink. That was the only explanation for calling him in the middle of the night. He was probably asleep. Hell for all she knew he was married and had two kids and a cat and a mortgage.

On the sixth ring, his voicemail picked up and she had to bite down on her lower lip to stop herself from hanging up. She'd come this far.

He sounded the same, years fading away. The harsh beep brought her back to the moment.

"Killian, hi. It's...Emma." She swallowed over her dry throat. "I know it's late and you're probably asleep. But I...I just....I don't know. I wanted to talk. I know it's been so long. But I never really...I don't know."

Frustrated, she ended the call before she started to ramble. The phone landed in the center of the sofa cushion. She swung her legs down onto the floor and shuffled in the direction of her bedroom; she'd done enough damage to her pride for one night.

\--

The next morning Emma tried to ignore the voicemail but her curiosity was stronger than her hangover.

"Emma Swan." His voice sounded the same. She exhaled the breath she hadn't meant to hold. "You'll have to forgive me for not answering your call. I should tell you I'm tremendously disciplined and don't answer after sundown, but in truth I left the blasted thing on vibrate and didn't hear it. But I was glad to hear from you. I kept...well I meant to...bloody hell. It's been a long time Swan. Give me a ring sometime. I'll answer this time."

She should make coffee and breakfast, shower and get dressed before Henry came home. Instead Emma turned in place, staring blankly at her apartment, before heading into the kitchen. She turned on the faucet and filled a clean glass, sipping slowly. Halfway through she felt more human, just brave enough to call him back.

He answered on the second ring, sounding more awake than anyone should on a Sunday morning. "Hello?"

She stumbled to get out a greeting. "Hey it's Emma."

"Two calls in one weekend," he replied. "Making up for lost time?"

"You didn't change your number," she replied, instantly regretting her glib answer. She could have called him a long time ago, but he didn't press.

"Ahh I see. Here I thought you were stalking me. First Instagram, now the telephone."

Emma paced around the counter separating sofa and kitchen. She sat down slowly, fingers curled tight around the phone. "Listen, I'm..."

"I'm joking Swan."

"Oh." His voice sounded the same and Emma felt herself relaxing against the sofa cushions. "I'm surprised you answered."

He chuckled. "Saw the area code, hoped it was you."

"Really?" She couldn't stop herself. Real life wasn't this easy; she barely knew Killian and now she was perilously close to sounding like a teenager with a crush.

"Your message caught my attention. Damn near broke my ankle this morning, thinking about it instead of watching the sidewalk."

"Rollerblading?"

"Running," he replied. "Took it up when I lived in Portland. Either that or bicycling."

In the light of day their conversation should have felt stilted and awkward, but Emma had heard bits about Killian over the years. She lost track of time, coming back to herself when the front door opened with a loud bang.

"Sorry mom," Henry said, backpack nearly touching the floor.

She waved at Henry with her free hand. "Listen, I have to go," she told Killian. "Breakfast and all that mom stuff."

"Ahh. I see. Perhaps I can call you again?"

She nodded, forgetting he couldn't see her answer. "Yeah. Or text. This is my cell so either one."

"Emma Swan with a cellphone. Finally joined us in this century?"

"Says the man who takes pictures of pirate ships."

"Tall ships," he corrected. "And it's quite different, I assure you."

"Bye Killian." Emma's voice was soft.

"Bye Swan."

Henry dropped his backpack onto the kitchen table. "Who was that?"

"An old friend of mine," Emma answered. "How was the sleepover?"

Henry's eyes widened. "Awesome. We made real s'mores in a fire pit. And we got to sleep outside."

"Didn't you get cold?"

"No way," Henry answered. Emma shook her head. Fortunately the temperature hadn't dipped too low, but Maine weather could be unpredictable. One year they'd woken up to snow on her birthday.

* * *

**_//_ november**

Days bled into weeks and soon they were talking daily. They traded messages back and forth, spaced across hours, finally connecting after Henry had gone to bed. Emma never had a best friend, someone to share her secrets with, but in the darkness she told Killian about things she had tried to forget, places she wanted to see, and the details in between.

_"I never knew anyone who ate kale until I moved here."_

_"Not all of us can survive on pop tarts alone."_

In return he told her about his travels, his work, and sometimes the life he'd left on another continent.

_"I was nineteen, tripped over my own feet, went down half a flight of stairs and almost broke a tooth. Milah tried to help me up and stepped on my hand."_

_"So love at first sight?"_

_"Something like that."_

He was the first person she called after Neal dropped the bombshell that he was getting married. She'd waited until Henry was in the passenger seat of Neal's car before closing the door and sinking down onto the floor. Hands shaking, it had taken her almost a minute to unlock her phone and touch Killian's name.

_"You never thought about marrying again?"_

_She'd barely disguised her snort as a cough. "I never got around to it the first time."_

_"Pity. You'd cut quite a figure in a fancy dress Swan."_

_"How do you know?"_

_"Saw the pictures from Ruby's wedding. Red is your color."_

_"You know wedding dresses are usually white, right?"_

Lately they almost made plans, like the afternoon she'd sat in her car, waiting for Henry to return from a field trip.

_"Henry wants to see London."_

_"And you'd prefer Paris?"_

_"No. I want to see the ocean."_

_"When's school finished for the summer? You pick a week and I'll charter a vessel."_

The front door of the B&B burst open and David stepped inside. The tips of his ears were red from the cold. "Are you ready?"

Granny scowled over the rim of her glasses. Emma scrunched her nose and glared back across the counter; Granny was looking for any excuse to stay in town. For three weeks everyone, from the substitute mail carrier to Leroy to the weekend cook, had heard Granny complain about crowds and lines and holiday travel.

Granny huffed loudly. "Are you sure that ancient heap of yours will make it to the airport?"

He chuckled, arms crossed over his chest. "If it doesn't, I'll call Ruby myself."

Ruby had emailed the tickets over Halloween weekend; Granny had immediately begun spinning excuses about why she couldn't leave Storybrooke three days before Thanksgiving.

"Fine." Granny crossed the faded carpet, eyes on Emma. "You have both sets of keys?"

Emma nodded. "Yes. Plus the emergency set at the station."

Granny grimaced. "I don't like it. You have a job."

"And forty-seven vacation days," Emma replied. The last time she took significant time off was four years ago when she took Henry to New York. In retrospect July was probably the worst time to visit but the crowds were light and he still talked about the hot dogs.

"We've been over this. Ruth understands. It's a slow time anyway." Emma inhaled sharply, readying her last argument. "Plus Henry's already packed a bag."

Granny's expression softened. "Alright. But make sure you remind Marco about the lights."

Emma nodded. "I know." Marco had been putting up the holiday lights the day after Thanksgiving for longer than Emma had been on Earth, but she didn't want another lecture.

"And Jefferson's mother-in-law isn't coming until Wednesday night now," Granny continued.

"I know. You already told me. And Anton is bringing the turkey tomorrow. I know. Now get out of here. You're going to miss your flight."

"Mmm. If only." Granny wrapped her arm around Emma's shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug. "You're a good kid," she whispered in Emma's ear. "Don't burn the place down while I'm gone."

Emma shook her head. "Try to have fun."

"Come on." David opened the door slightly. "Your chariot awaits."

Granny muttered something under her breath that made David blush but she crossed the threshold without argument. Emma moved behind the check-in desk; she'd left Henry in the parlor, absorbed in one of his new books. She clicked over to the weekly guest view, skimming the list for any late check-ins or special requests. Her eyes landed on a familiar name and she reached for the phone, fingers dialing automatically.

She didn't bother with pleasantries. "Why are you staying at Granny's?"

"Well hello to you too Swan." Killian sounded like he was in the bottom of a well. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"You're checking in tomorrow morning. Staying for two nights. What the hell is that?"

"We've got a terrible connection," he replied.

"Don't change the subject. Now explain what's going on or I'll cancel your reservation."

"Hold on. What are you doing snooping in Granny's book? Work not keeping you busy?"

"Burning some vacation days." Emma turned away from the computer screen, spinning slowly in her chair. "Granny went to Kansas to visit Ruby."

"Ahh." The background noise subsided.

"So are you going to tell me what's going on?" She tried to keep her voice light.

"I'm trying to surprise Liam. He thinks I couldn't get any time off. I told him it wasn't my holiday and that I couldn't be bothered."

"Oh." Now the reservation made sense. Liam's farmhouse was almost fifteen miles outside of the town and he rarely came in during the week. "So you quit?"

Killian barked out a laugh. "Not hardly. I have to cover Christmas week but I've got the time off."

"That's some surprise." She resisted the urge to twirl the phone cord around her finger. "How long are you staying?"

"Two weeks. Less if Liam tries to get me to help plant any of those bloody trees."  
"You should have come for Christmas instead," she countered. "Not so demanding."

"Now that the surprise is ruined, is there any chance I can see you when I'm in town?"

"Well I'm working the desk and camping out at Granny's all week so maybe."

"Not what I meant Swan."

Emma rolled her eyes even though he couldn't see her expression. It shouldn't fill her stomach with butterflies, not after so many months of talking to him, but this was different. This was him and her in the same place at the same time, breathing the same air and stopping at the same red lights.

"Emma?" Killian's voice was in her ear, blotting out the imaginary conversations she'd been having in her head.

"Yeah, sorry, still here." Emma knew she sounded flustered but she couldn't find the right words. "Sure. If I'm not here when you get in, text me." Before he could answer, she rushed off the phone, claiming a customer.

Alone in the empty lobby, Emma let her head drop to the scratched countertop. She was screwed.

 

\---

She'd been sitting behind the counter for nearly an hour when he arrived. Emma glanced down at the clock in the corner of her computer screen. One fifty-three. Of course he was early; he'd told her two earlier in the day, but the traffic could be unpredictable.

She stood up quickly, tugging at the hem of her sweater with one hand. Emma rounded the desk as he closed the door and turned to face the lobby. They stood frozen for a moment.

"Swan." He crossed the floor quickly and stopped in front of Emma, duffel bag over one shoulder.

"Hi." After so many months of looking at his face on a screen, she'd forgotten that he was taller than her by several inches. Her boots sank into the faded carpet.

"Hello." The corners of his eyes crinkled into a smile and there it was, the easy smile that made her feel like she was trapped in a movie. He reached out both arms and she stepped into the hug, hands pressed against his shoulders. His coat was cold against her cheek.

Emma leaned back, intending to move out of his orbit and return to the safety of her desk chair, but at the last instant she leaned forward, brushing her lips against his cheek.

"You look lovely." His left hand rested lightly on her shoulder; she could feel the cold through her sweater.

She stepped back reluctantly, cheeks pink. "You look the same." Her blush spread. "I mean good. You look good."

His smile stretched across his face. "I know."

Emma rolled her eyes but turned away to hide the goofy smile that she couldn't suppress. She nearly smashed her hip into the counter as she turned back to the computer. It should be easy to check Killian in, move the mouse and click the correct boxes, but her fingers kept striking the wrong keys.

He leaned against the edge of the counter, bag abandoned at his feet "You alright?"

Emma shrugged. "I guess. It's a little weird."

Killian straightened, his expression unreadable.

She pressed the last two keys and leaned down to collect his key, trying not to flip her hair over her shoulder when she stood up.

"Here's..." Emma trailed off, noticing the set of his shoulders, and shook her head. "Not bad weird," she clarified. "Just different."

"Oh." He exhaled, shoulders relaxing.

Emma came around the counter, key in her hand. "Here. You're in room seven."

She dropped the key into his palm. Killian covered her knuckles with his free hand.

"Emma. I need to tell you something."

His eyes were even more intense up close, framed by dark lashes. He looked tired. And she knew better, knew Killian, had spent hours talking, but her mind immediately went to the worst thing she could imagine.

"Okay." The word was barely above a whisper, embarrassment creeping from her head to her toes.

She'd misread the entire situation and he was trying to let her down easily. Emma tried to back up but she felt like her boots were glued to the carpet. If there was ever a time for the ground to swallow her whole, this would be it.

"Wait." He leaned forward slightly. "Why did you call me?"

The question took her by surprise. It would be easier to keep the Killian who'd become her long-distance friend separate from the man holding her hand, but she couldn't stop herself from answering honestly.

"It was stupid," she began, shuffling closer, tips of her boots touching his shoes. "But I was thinking about you and that time we..." Emma broke off mid-sentence, unable to finish the thought.

"Almost kissed?" He smiled like she'd let him in on a wonderful secret. "I'm not here to surprise my brother. I came to see you."

"Me?" Her tongue felt too large for her mouth.

"Aye." He smiled, pulling their joined hands against his chest. "I had this grand plan. Belle was going to invite you and Henry to dinner. I'd be there, looking devilishly handsome." Killian shrugged. "I didn't plan on you changing jobs. You took the winds out of my sails love."

Emma couldn't help it. She laughed, eyes closed and nose scrunched up, the sound filling the lobby. It was positively ridiculous but he was so earnest, so solid and real and finally in Storybrooke, that she couldn't do more than laugh.

She wiped moisture from the corner of her left eye. "So you decided to turn our lives into a romantic comedy?"

Killian chuckled. "No. I decided to speed up the plot."

"Good idea." She gripped his collar and pulled him closer. Their lips brushed, tentative at first, but soon deepening, kissing like they weren't in the middle of Granny's lobby.

Killian leaned back, nose brushing her cheek. "Emma Swan, will you go on a date with me?"

She didn't answer, pressing closer, her hands pressed against his back.

"Is that a yes?" He whispered the question against the shell of her ear, one hand tangled in her hair.

"Yeah," she replied softly. "But I really wish you'd asked me before I agreed to cook a twenty-pound turkey."

 


End file.
